52 Fujis #4 - Fujinomori

Fujinomori is a suburb of Kyoto. I found that much out this morning after being pushed for time owing to my having neglected to renew my Foreigner Registration Card for ages, and subsequently working out that this was probably the last chance I’d have before I got deported. The nice young man at City Hall wasn’t best pleased by my having renewed a visa and moving house without telling them, but he smiled nicely and asked me not to do it again. He still cost me 2 hours of my morning though, so I figured I’d revise my 5 Fuji Plan for this weekend, and instead knock it down to three. I’d begin with Fujinomori, which meant I’d be able to stay the night in Kyoto. I like Kyoto.

I hunted for a hotel as soon as I got off the shinkansen, asking at the information bureau on the ground floor where I could reserve a hotel. I did this in Japanese. The girl didn’t speak English and had that petrified look behind her eyes that I was going to ask her if she could. I was pretty sure I’d be OK.
9th Floor of Isetan? Tourist Information for Foreigners? Ta.

Everyone here spoke English. They almost wouldn’t let me speak Japanese. I kept lapsing, just because it felt strange that everyone was keeping up, and probably because sub-consciously I wanted them to know I was one of those special foreigners who was totally down with their shit. They didn’t seem to care either way.

When I got to my hotel, I discovered that everyone here also spoke English. Which was again bizarre. Especially when they commented on my name :
“Oh ! Like Michael Jackson ! Jichael Mackson ! Ahahahaha!”
Blank looks from me facilitate an explanation of sorts.
“TV show… Jichael Mackson?”
I vaguely remember hearing that Michael Jackson popped up on SMAP TV recently, and tell the staff so in Japanese.
They continue in English.
“Yes, very funny. Ahahahaha! Your room is 510, it has a bath, but we also have a public bath…”

I go up to my room and chill out for a bit, discover that wireless network users in Kyoto are a hell of a lot more savvy than the ones who live in my apartment building, and resign myself to checking train times on my phone. Which is running on a different network that has a different layout. This unsettles me a bit until I stop running on muscle memory, and start reading what’s in front of me.

Train to Fujinomori at 17:51. Change at Tofukuji to Keihan line.

Game on.

Tofukuji station is insane. There’s a JR line and a Keihan line running through it. Except you would hardly know the other exists when you are on the platform for one of them. I got very disoriented but still managed to get on the right train. And I made no fare mistakes. Result.

The grey skies that had been a feature of the day until now, and had prompted me to bring my foldaway umbrella with me, decided that, seeing as how it didn’t look like I was carrying the aforementioned umbrella, it would be the ideal time to stop looking like it was going to rain, and just get on with it.

By the time I got off at Fujinomori, it was bucketing down.

Which may not have helped my impression of the place.

But I did try.

When I first came out of the station I was baffled by its appearance. It was straight out of Bladerunner, an invisible station by a river, under a looming bridge. Then I realised this was a bad sign for anything particularly cool being in the vicinity. I hung around and had a cigarette, vainly hoping that the rain was just showing off how heavy it could be, and wasn’t here to stay for the whole evening. I contemplated kicking a schoolboy in the face as he rasped theatrically beside me while I smoked, then thought he might have asthma, and guiltily sneaked off into the rain. I knew from the Google map I’d sneakily downloaded and put on my GP2X there was a Daiei near here. Good place to get an umbrella as long as it wasn’t three million miles away. Or I got lost.

Neither of the above happened, although I did find myself in the “Rose Centre”, or so I believe it was named, and discovered that Yamaha, they of the motorbikes, pianos and recorders, also have an English school. The kids didn’t see me as I walked past but their Japanese teacher did a double take. May have missed out on a job offer.

In Daiei, I did indeed find an umbrella, and also some truth to the legend that the average boob size gets bigger the further west you go. No more on that as I’m probably in enough trouble with the Diminutive Co-Habitant for going to Kyoto without her.

Now equipped with a rain shield, I set about exploring Fujinomori. What a nice name. It’s a different kanji from the mountain, so to a Japanese person there is, perhaps, little connection. It’s like the difference between ‘threw’ and ‘through’. This particular kanji means ‘wisteria’, and Fujinomori means “Wisteria Woods”. Or, if you prefer, “Woods Of Wisteria.” Either way, in either language, its a completely whimsical name as I saw next to no wisteria. Or woods. I did see a great number of ramshackle buildings, closed businesses and tiny alleys.

And little else.

As I made my way back to the station, I found a clue to the immense lack of anything coupled with the seeming semblance of everything that will define Fujinomori for me from now until I actually spend more than an hour there, on a day that I’m not being pelted with raindrops - a building with the curious name of “Riss Community.” Riss not being a link to Bladerunner with a letter missing - ‘Riss’ being the romanized form of ‘risu’, which means ’squirrel.’ The squirrels have taken over. Sinister, invisible giant squirrels, whose sole ambition it is to hoard away all the unloved buildings into one place! A place which is already a bit pushed for room. I wish them luck.

Fujis remaining : 48

(More photos in the Gallery: Link.)

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Friday, June 9th, 2006 52 Fujis, Japan Trackback URL for this entry